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 Kiss of the MasterHere are relevant references from the Books where the Kiss of the Master is mentioned. I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them. Arrive at your own conclusions. I wish you well, Fogaban the lips of Vika were maddening; I recalled those lips, full and red, pouting, defiant, scornful, scarlet with a slave girl's challenge to my blood; I wondered if Vika might be a bred slave, a Passion Slave, one of those girls bred for beauty and passion over generations by the zealous owners of the great Slave Houses of Ar, for lips such as Vika's were a feature often bred into Passion Slaves; they were lips formed for the kiss of a master. I found myself wanting to take her body in my arms and shatter it to my breast, forcing back her head, taking her lips in the kiss of a master as though I once more owned her. I then took Dina of Turia in my arms and, at some length, and with a certain admitted satisfaction, collected my winnings. Because she had annoyed me the kiss that was hers was that of master to a slave girl; yet was I patient because the kiss itself was not enough; I was not satisfied until, despite herself, I read in my arms her body's sudden, involuntary admission that I had conquered. "Master," she said, her eyes glazed, too weak to struggle against the thongs that encircled her wrists. She did not move, and then suddenly I felt the cut of her nails deep in my arms, and though her lips were open, her teeth were clenched, her head was back, the eyes closed, her hair tangled under her and over her body, and then her eyes seemed surprised, startled, and her shoulders lifted a bit from the rug, and she looked at me, and I could feel the beginning in her, the breathing of it and the blood of it, hers, in my own flesh swift and like fire in her beauty, mine, and knowing it was then the time, meeting her eyes fiercely, I said to her, with sudden contempt and savagery, following the common Gorean Rites of Submission, "Slave!" and she looked at me with horror and cried out "No!" and half reared from the rug, wild, helpless, fierce as I intended, wanting to fight me, as I knew she would, wanting to slay me if it lay within her power, as I knew she would, and I permitted her to struggle and to bite and scratch and cry out and then I silenced her with the kiss of the master, and accepted the exquisite surrender which she had no choice but to give. "You are beautiful," I said, looking at her. "Your lips," I said, "are interesting." They were a bit full, protruding, pouting. They would crush well beneath a man's teeth. "How is that?" she asked. "It would be easy," I said, "to bring blood from them in a master's kiss." I lifted her toward my lips, to claim her. "Have you forgotten Earth?" she asked. "I have never heard of that place," I told her. She lifted her lips, timidly, delicately, to mine. "Nor have I," she said. She whispered, very softly. "I love you, Master." I did not let her kiss me. Rather, I, suddenly, with a larl's ferocity, thrust my lips to hers, cruelly, in the raping kiss of the master, and pressed her savagely back into the straw, against the very stones of the dungeon cell in which she lay slave, chained, beneath me. She squirmed and then, held, cried out, a scream that must have carried to every cell, through every corridor, of that grim level, startling the enslaved beauties chained there, amusing the soldiers in whose arms they lay, a scream at once of wild love and of a helpless slave girl's total submission. He seized her in his mighty arms and crushed her to him, raping her lips with the master's kiss, mighty in its lust and possession of the collared she, and she clutched him, helplessly, crying out. She stood at the open end of the stall, beyond my reach. She was angry. "I see that tomorrow," she said, "you will seize Claudia in your arms, crush her to you and rape her lips with the kiss of the Master." I considered administering to her the kiss of the master to the female slave. I remembered her. She was the naked, collared slave who, a few moments ago, had seized me and kissed me. I had returned her kiss, in the fashion of a master. She had soft, full, pouting lips, of the sort that seem made for the raping of the master's kiss. I saw her eyes, and pressed down upon her, holding her head, pressing her lips with the kiss of the master. I do not think Amina has ever forgotten your kiss, that of a master, when she was helpless at the Crooked Tarn, chained to the outside wall, the storm raging. What if a man takes me in his arms, holds me helplessly and chooses to rape my lips with the kiss of the master, she thought. Sexuality, in its fullness, in its entirety, in its thousand strands and facets, in its thousand modalities and expressions, from almost unendurable, ruthlessly imposed sexual ecstasies, from which the slave may fear she will not survive, to the manner in which a meal is served, from the cruel, raping kiss of the master to the polishing of his boots, from the kissing of his feet to the careful keeping of his quarters, is the life of the female slave. So I took Cecily in my arms and felt her squirming gratefully against me, her moist lips eagerly seeking mine. Pertinax similarly took his Jane in hand, and, bending her backward in his arms, ruled her lips with a master's kiss. One fellow could not resist such provocation and seized a blond kajira, crushing her to him and raping her lips with the kiss of the master. I saw more than one rape the lips of a beauty with the kiss of the master, and then cast her, chained, to her mat, and depart, despite her extending her hands futilely after him. Well then did she jerk at her chain, again and again, in frustration, which held her in place. "You have good lips," he said, "sweetly soft, bred for a master's kiss." He opened his arms, and I hurried to him, and I was enfolded in his arms, and our lips met. I was held very tightly, and the kiss was a typical claiming kiss of a master. He then thrust me away, I half turning, into the arms of his fellow and I found myself again handled as what I was, a slave girl. She lifted her head to him, and he bent down, and, forcing her head back against the saddle apron, crushed her lips beneath his, with the master's kiss, that possessive kiss, wholly at his will, subjected to which the slave well understands his will is all, and she is owned. "Worthless, yes," said Astron, "but consider the fineness, the delicacy, of the features, the dark-brown hair, the soft lips, which might be easily bruised by the violence of a master's kiss, the sweet shoulders and vulnerable belly, the trim ankles, which would look so well in shackles, and the eyes. I suspect tears could be easily brought to those lovely eyes." |
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